What the War Gave Me
by lovegame5184
Summary: A U.S. Marine traveling southern Afghanistan with his squad comes across an abandoned train cargo cabin. But, it wasn't empty. A beautiful, mysterious woman is found bound and gagged inside. The marine and his squad give her security and refuge while trying to figure out who and what she is. The mystery will take them all by storm and lead them where they should have never gone.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

I could already feel the perspiration dewing on my skin as the stars faded and the sweltering desert sun replaced it. I stayed by my post until Smith prepared the squad for transit. Nearby, I heard Jenkins' familiar groan of protest at being woken up.

"Ahh, shit. My back is fuckin' killing me.", Jenkins' back loudly agreed with several cracks. I rolled my eyes and scoffed.

"Miss your tempurpedic? Don't be a bitch." I barked at him.

He glared at me and I laughed out loud. He hated when I teased him about his manliness. He was a good soldier, but he whined almost constantly. We met back in Twentynine Palms, when we found out we were going to be part of the same squad that was deployed to Afghanistan. He was the closest thing to a best friend that I had out here. The closest thing to home, I guess. We all missed it; we just never spoke the words.

"We get any mail today, Smith?" Spencer asked the squad-leader, Lance Corporal Aaron Smith. Spencer was a small guy, the guy you wouldn't expect to see in a place like this, doing the things we do. He looked like he could be working on the new Apple product, not handling a machine-gun. He had his reasons for joining the Corps, he just never seemed up to talk about it, so nobody ever asked.

"Yeah, we got some yesterday but we rolled in late, so I saved them until today." Smith grabbed a duffel bag and started handing out envelopes to eager soldiers.

They were from wives, girlfriends, parents, siblings, sons and daughters and were sometimes the only salvation we could get from the hell we experience out here. Not that I ever got any. I had no girlfriend. I had no family to speak of, except for an Uncle that lives in Montana that has no idea I even joined the Marines. My dad walked out before I was born and fell off the face of the planet. My mom had been diagnosed with Stage 4 breast cancer when I was seventeen and died about 6 months later. Since I was the only kin left, I was granted the medical bills after I turned eighteen. So, I joined the Marines as an outlet for my pain and anger and for the paychecks to pay off the bills.

Jenkins was definitely a feely sort of guy, more than most guys. He knows my situation and likes expressing his feelings, so he takes to calling me his brother. He got usual letters from his parents and his little sister. He let me read them, If I ever wanted to, just to fill the void a little bit. When the emptiness gets overbearing, Jenkins is always there making me feel better. I'll always be grateful for that.

Everyone opened their letters with gusto. Smith eyed me with something akin to sympathy. I ignored it. After everyone ate a little and packed up, we gave the check for any damage we caused to the home owner and made our way through the brush to the open fields. I was watching the surroundings with my scope on my rifle.

We walked for about two and a half hours straight, only stopping for 5 minute intervals under the shade of a tree for relief from the blistering sun. We all had almost 15 pounds of gear on and that wasn't making it any easier. Sweat dripped down the side of my face. We weren't allowed to take our helmets off while on patrol so I had no hope of cooling down any time soon. We started walking again, endlessly checking for mines and threats. It was extremely quiet, until Jenkins yelled out suddenly.

"Woah, Captain! Look what we got here!"

About ten, or twenty meters away, there was what looked like a cargo cabin that came off a train. Nothing attached, just the box sitting out in the middle of nowhere. There were a couple trees shading it, but other than that, there was nothing around it at all. How the hell did it get out here?

"Scan the perimeter, don't go near it until we know for sure there is no energy traces inside." Sgt. Smith yelled out orders. The men fanned out around it. We walked around the front and stopped short. There was a series of locks and chains blocking anything from getting in or out. These weren't just some locks; these were industrial-sized locks that you might use at ship decks or zoos.

"Damn." Spencer murmured.

Spencer took out an ETD and Energy Tracing Device and walked around the crate, scanning. There was no trace of anything inside that was nuclear or set for a detonation when the door was opened.

"Captain, are we gonna see what's in there?"

The Captain looked uncertain. He looked like he was gonna say no until we heard a thump from inside. We all raised our guns and pointed it at the cabin. A muffled cry sounded out and kicked us into high gear. The Captain gave the go and the locks were shot off. We unraveled the chains from the door and raised our guns and had them at the ready. Jenkins kicked the door open and I took lead pointing my gun into the darkness. I switched on the flashlight and shone it into the depths of the cabin. I blinked twice to make sure my eyes weren't playing tricks on me. There was a girl…woman, huddled in the corner, bound and gagged. The rest of the cabin was completely empty. I lowered my gun and slowly walked through the cabin towards her. Her eyes were wild and terrified, full of tears. She kicked out at me in desperation, her breath coming in pants. I knelt down beside her. She backed away further against the wall.

"It's alright, we're not gonna hurt you. Let me try to get these ropes off you." I tried to soothe her while I got out my Swiss Army knife and cut the ropes around her feet. She had on a long dress made out of a light material that looked like it was white once, but was now dirty and tattered. Her pitch-black hair was disheveled, long, and curled around her face. I looked closely at her. She was beautiful, I could see that clearly. Even with a dirty, tear-streaked face. Her features were pronounced, her cheekbones high, her nose slim and finely tipped. Her lips were bee-stung and red from the gag. I shook myself and paid attention to getting her out. A sliver of light caught my eye. There was a black, circular stone on a slender, silver chain around her neck. The skin surrounding the stone was angry and red; some parts bleeding. I had no idea what it was and I had to get her out first. There were ropes around her knees as well. Whoever did this really didn't want her to get out of them. I moved to the ones around her hands. They were bound so tight, they rubbed her skin raw, drops of blood leaking out of the abused skin. She whimpered as I pulled them off as gently as I could. She lifted her hands and ripped the necklace away from her, pieces of skin coming off with it. Jesus, it looked like it was branded into her. She threw the necklace away from her in disgust. I let it go for now and moved to the gag around her mouth. I cut it quickly and pulled it away from her mouth. She licked her dry, reddened lips and looked me in the eyes. She sobbed hoarsely and threw her arms around my neck. I held her for a moment, trying to give her a sense of trust and security. Her body felt tiny and frail. I untangled her slender arms from my neck and sat her back.

"Let me clean that up a little bit for you." I nodded to the wound on her chest, right below the hollow at the base of her neck.

"First Aid!" I yelled towards the squad who were waiting eagerly outside the opening of the cabin. Spencer threw the kit towards me and I snatched it out of the air and popped it open. I took off my gloves and set them beside me. I wiped my hands off with an antibacterial wipe and got the peroxide and swath of cloth out.

"This is gonna sting." I warned her before I placed the soaked cotton ball on the wound. It looked bad. Like it just burned away her skin. She flinched when it made contact. She bit her lip, closed her eyes, and didn't make a sound. I gave up trying to clean it all with the cotton ball. I lifted the small bottle of peroxide and poured a small amount onto the wound directly. It sizzled like crazy while I got the excess droplets with the cloth in my hand. I would clean it more once we got somewhere more secure. I dabbed Neosporin on it and put a heavy bandage across it. I looked up to see if she was okay and found her staring directly and unflinchingly into my eyes. There was an emotion I couldn't read clearly.

"All done. Let's get you out of here."

I picked her up and set her on her feet.

"Can you walk?" I asked softly. She gingerly lifted a bare foot and took a step. She put her weight into it and collapsed. I caught her around her waist and hoisted her into my arms. She laid her head onto my shoulder, exhausted. I felt her soft breath against my neck as I carried her out to the men.

"Shit, it's just a girl!" McShane exclaimed. She lifted a pale hand and shielded her eyes against the harsh sun. I stood with her in my arms while the men looked on in shock.

"What do you want to do with her, Captain?" I asked anxiously. She was too physically exhausted to talk, definitely dehydrated and might be in the early stages of heat stroke. Smith considered for a second and decided.

"We'll take her with us to the next camp and see what her situation is. We don't have any other choice, we can't leave her here. Let's hurry and move out, she can't stay in the sun long."

The men took a long look at her and started moving out. McShane took my position and we walked for a good half an hour. She was barely conscious, her head lolling to and fro. I tried talking to her a couple times to keep her awake.

"Do you have a name?" I asked her gently. She lifted her head and cleared her throat and tried to speak, but only a rasp came out. "It's alright, don't strain yourself. We'll get you some water and food when we get somewhere secure, okay? Just hang in there." I felt her nod and rest her head back on my shoulder, her black hair spilling down my chest. I held her a little closer.

We saw the cement walls surrounding a house in the distance and knew that rest was coming soon. I stayed back as the men searched the perimeter and talked with the owner of the home. After everything was settled, I brought her into the courtyard. I set her down on a tree stump. I put a canteen of water to her lips and tipped it back. She drank several swallows greedily and pushed the canteen back, wiping her mouth. She nodded at me, thanking me silently. Smith walked up to us and put a blanket around her bare shoulders, covering the V shape of her dress. I knew he wasn't doing it for warmth or comfort since it was still about 85 degrees out at dusk. We shared a knowing look. We were still in Afghanistan and men still weren't crazy about women showing skin. I told the translator, Corporal Diaz, to explain to the home owner that we have a suspected P.O.W. with us and if his wife could help clean her up a bit. I shifted her in my arms. She wasn't heavy but after two hours of carrying her, it was taking a toll on my arms.

We met with the homeowner, Abdul. He was about a head shorter than me and had a salt and pepper beard and kind eyes. After Diaz explained the situation to him, he ushered me inside. The house was immaculate. Colorful rugs and vases added to the appeal. The furniture was old and worn but clean. He yelled for his wife and she hurried around the corner at his urgent call. She was in the usual Afghani women's attire, so only her pretty coffee-colored eyes were visible. They were filled with concern once she laid eyes on the girl in my arms.

Diaz turned to me, "This is Abdul's wife, Nyawela. She'll take care of her." I nodded sharply. Diaz walked through the archway back out into the courtyard.

Nyawela spoke in her language to her husband and they both led me into the wash room. I put her on the stool by the sink. She slumped a little, and her eyes were glazed. She definitely wasn't all the way here. I turned to leave. A slim hand gripped mine and stopped me. I looked down at her and she was staring up at me with a lost look that tugged at my heart.

"Please, don't leave me." She pleaded hoarsely in a voice that sounded tired from screaming. I grabbed her hand in both of mine.

"It's alright, I'm not leaving you. I'll just be right outside the door, okay?" I reassured her. I could clearly see her eyes now. They were a light violet, a color I had never seen before outside of colored contacts. I watched them for a moment and then turned and waited outside the doorway. The door closed shut and I heard Abdul's wife fussing over the girl. I remembered that I never asked her name. I would ask her once she was up to talking and taken care of. A trickling of water echoed through the door. About fifteen minutes later, the door opened up and Nyawela came through, mumbling excitedly to herself. She had a strange look in her eye. She hurried further into the house. Nyawela came back with a bundle of clothes. She brushed past me back into the bathroom, shutting the door again. I leaned against the doorjamb.

What was she doing out in that train cabin? It didn't look like a random abduction. If the gags and multiple bindings weren't enough to keep her in there, the door was locked and the key thrown away. Whoever put her there didn't want her to be found, let alone rescued. She was meant to suffer and die out there.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2! Starting to get this thing crackin'! Thank you for taking the time to read this! :) I would LOVE a beta so if your interested, message me. And PLEASE...Review? Criticism, thoughts, questions, concerns are all welcome! K. Bye.**

There were a million thoughts running through my head when the door finally opened. I swung my head around. My jaw dropped. She was cleaned up, all right. And more beautiful than any woman I've ever seen. Her raven-colored hair was slightly damp and was drying in soft, glossy waves, reaching her waist. Her skin was pale, unblemished, and as luminous as a pearl. Her dark eyebrows were soft arches, perfectly defining her eyes and face. Her black eyelashes were impossibly long and dusted her cheekbones when she lowered them. Her lips were perfect, to say the least. Red and plump, lips that were meant to give kisses. The bandage on her chest was covered.

She was dressed in a linen shift dress Nyawela provided. Nyawela was a petite, slight woman and her clothes were meant to be a little loose on her. The girl was considerably curvier (I couldn't help but notice) and the dress fit her a little more tightly than it should have. Her feet were adorned with slippers, which I only noticed because they were starting to shuffle nervously.

I could have stared at her all day, memorizing her features. But, she was watching me stare at her. Shit, that's embarrassing. I cleared my throat. I looked back at her face and a pink blush was starting to stain her cheeks. She looked as embarrassed as I was. Nyawela came beside her and took her hand and put an arm around her shoulder and led her to me. Her steps were wobbly and weak. When they reached me, I nodded at Nyawela as I put her arm around my shoulder and a supporting hand around her waist. She leaned into me trustingly. Nyawela left us, probably to find her husband. She turned her head towards me.

"I never caught your name." She murmured. She looked me in the eyes, waiting.

"Daemon Kennedy. You can just call me Daemon, if you want." She smiled and nodded.

I took the girl out to the courtyard where the squad was waiting anxiously. Smith, Spencer, McShane, Diaz, and Jenkins had set up all the defense equipment and camp equipment for the night. All of their eyes widened when they saw her cleaned up. I set her down on a wooden bench. She exhaled slowly and lifted her head and looked all the men straight in the eyes. Jenkins shuffled his feet a little under her scrutiny. She clearly wasn't going to be cowed by them.

Smith took a step forward and her eyes snapped to him. He spoke up, "What's your name?"

She looked to me before she answered. I nodded. When she spoke, she had a beautiful accent that almost sounded like a mixture between Middle Eastern and French. I had never heard it before. Maybe she was from somewhere small and more remote. She sat up a little straighter, looking each man in the eyes. "My name is Serena." She said it with a calmness and finality that matched her name. "And yours?" She asked Smith with a raised brow. I smiled to myself and a couple of the men cracked one too. Smith even looked amused.

"Lance Corporal Aaron Smith, ma'am." She stood shakily but determinedly. I stood with her and tried to lend a supporting hand, but she gave me a small smile and patted my hand away. She walked with grace over to Smith and faced him. "I understand you are the leader of the men. I want to thank you for saving me. It was a risk for you and your men and I am in your debt." She gave him charming smile and he looked dazed for a moment.

"It was, uh, no problem, ma'am. That's what we do." She reached out to shake his hand and he took it immediately. She did the same with all the men. They all had shit-eating grins on their face and had their chests puffed out considerably. She moved on to me. She took my hand in both of hers. She smiled fully at me with perfect teeth. I smiled back and her eyes twinkled. She released my hands and turned.

"You have questions for me. Please, ask them." Her voice was calm and mesmerizing, still hoarse. She swayed a little and sat back down, wiping a delicate hand across her forehead. We all sat down, facing her. Smith started with the questions. She looked wary and cautious.

"How did you get in that crate?" Smith asked. Her eyes turned hard and dark, like an uncut amethyst. I looked quickly to Smith, he saw it too. Everything around her seemed to hum with energy, like a taser electrified the air around her. The men looked at each other and then at Smith. And then something in her changed. Her eyes went wide and innocent, tears filling them. She shook and answered meekly, "I-I don't remember much. I just remember waking up and I was tied up and in that crate. I was in there for four or five hours before I heard you outside. I thought I was going to die in there." She finished softly and sobbed a little.

"Are you anyone of importance? Why would someone throw you in there like that?" Jenkins asked.

Serena paused a moment and then answered, "I'm a nobody, just a traveler."

"Where are you from? I've never heard that specific accent before." Diaz asked, scrutinizing her heavily. She looked at him, scrutinizing him in return.

"I was born in Alexandria, Egypt."

"And your parents?"

"My mother was Egyptian and my father was American. "

"Where are they now?"

"Dead. Both of them. I have no other family."

Diaz stared at her and she lifted her chin, daring him to question her authenticity. Not many hold their own against Diaz. He was pretty damn intimidating. He had the body of a heavyweight champion and eyes that could literally see into your soul. But she didn't care. He relented finally, shifting his weight back and relaxing.

Smith broke the awkward silence. "If you can't remember anything, I guess we can't really ask you any more questions. If you do, let us know. You might have information on an Al-Qaida threat, if they're the ones that kidnapped you." Serena nodded. "Well, get some rest. We're close to a Marine base and we'll be staying there for a while. We can try to get you home, wherever that may be."

There was never really downtime when you're out in the field when you're a Marine. You're always on the lookout for any possible threats. We were surrounded by a tall stone wall, the standard design of homes out here. You had a small sense of security knowing that a guy is working night vision goggles and a rifle to watch for threats when you're sleeping. I did it the night before, so it was Jenkins' turn. Jenkins lent his sleeping equipment to Serena for the night. She thanked him gratefully and he almost friggin' passed out. The courtyard was pretty big, so we all spread out. Serena walked right over and set her sleeping mat next to mine without hesitation. I saw Jenkins' wink and dirty gesture. I flipped him off when Serena was turned. I took off my helmet and let the cool, dusk wind blow through my hair. I stood up and went over to the water well. I filled the pail and bent over, dumping the water over my face and head, washing out dirt and sweat. I shook the extra water out of my hair. I liked to keep it a tad longer than the other guys. Not to be a douche, but the buzz cut wasn't really for me. I took both hands and ran it through my hair. When I opened my eyes, I saw Serena staring at me. A blush caught her in embarrassment and she looked away quickly, humming to herself. I laughed inwardly, not wanting to embarrass her further.

Jenkins used to call me Calvin. As in Calvin Klein, because he said I should be modeling for them instead of out here. He thought it was so clever and hilarious-until I beat the shit out of him for it. We had a laugh afterwards and he never called me it again.

I took off the bullet-proof vest and collapsed on my sleeping mat. Serena was sitting up, braiding a piece of her long hair and humming. I was usually beat-tired when I lay down for the night, but I couldn't fall asleep. She had a lovely singing voice and that alone would have put me to sleep but I just couldn't.

She didn't seem tired whatsoever either. She just stared at the stars coming out or around the courtyard. I lay on my side, watching her. She couldn't see me, it was dark and I was sure it looked like I was sleeping.

"Can't sleep?" She murmured suddenly and without turning her head, surprising me. How did she know I was awake? I asked her.

"How did you know I was awake?" She looked at me and smiled.

"Tell me about yourself." Good subject change.

"Why?" I asked her. Her eyes pierced me, seeming to glow in the dark.

"You can't sleep, I can't sleep. So, tell me about your life, your family- If you want to." She grinned encouragingly.

I told her everything. How my father walked out, what I felt when my mother died, why I joined the Marines. She didn't have an 'I feel so sorry for you look', which was refreshing. Instead, she had a look of empathy. She knew exactly what I feel. She didn't say a word while I was talking, just listened. When I was finished, she just said, "Your mother would have been very proud of you. IS very proud of you." A tug pulled at my heart.

"Your turn." I told her. She blew out a breath of air. She tilted her head to get a good look at the stars.

"Have you heard of the Greek myths of the Iliad and the Odyssey? A single woman brought down one of the most powerful, impenetrable city of the time. Helen, of Troy, of course. She was the most beautiful woman in the world, and the Queen of Sparta-"

"You're not talking about yourself! Nice subject change, but I want to know about you, not Helen of Sparta." I laughed. She laughed as well, a warm sound.

"I don't have anything to tell! I'm just an orphan traveler who happened to be kidnapped for unexplainable reasons unbeknownst to me, thrown in a crate, and left for dead! Nothing interesting here." She laughed heartily. I laughed a little too loudly, and McShane shushed me. Her talking about her captivity reminded me of the strange wound on her chest.

"How's the burn on your chest?" She suddenly got very quiet. The air felt electrified again. What the hell was that? Was I imagining it?

"It's fine." She replied in a flat voice.

"The bandage will need to be changed soon. I'll change it in the morning before we leave." I assured her.

She looked away from my face. "I'm tired. Goodnight." She rolled over suddenly. I lay on my back. Did I say something wrong? I just asked her about the wound. Maybe she remembered something she didn't want to remember and it brought up a bad memory. That was the only explanation I could think of.

She blew my mind. I never met someone like her. She was an enigma. A Venus Fly Trap, mesmerizing me and pulling me in for more. What I should have been watching for was the bite.

**Chapter 3 coming on 8/4/13**


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